


Hold Your Mistake Up

by agirlcalledbob



Series: Instant Destiny [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Daddy Kink, Dom Chris, Dom Peter, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Spanking, Submissive Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22861153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlcalledbob/pseuds/agirlcalledbob
Summary: Jackson has anger problems, and too many years of pushing people away.  Chris and Peter think they can get through to him.
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Jackson Whittemore
Series: Instant Destiny [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634938
Comments: 2
Kudos: 86





	1. When There’s No One Left to Fight, Boys Like Him Don’t Shine So Bright

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was fun.  
> Heads up, unlike the relationship between Derek and Stiles in this series, which is all adorable fluff, all the time, this one is firmly kink-based (there will definitely be more tags to come). If that isn't your bag, it's okay to step away (and missing this section won't prevent reading the other, more Sterek centered, sections).
> 
> However, if you haven't read the preceding sections of this series, a lot of the characterisation might be confusing - and this scene picks up from the one in chapter four of This is a Call where Jackson loses his temper with Stiles.

Jackson feels the shame instantly as he looks at the sharp shards scattered over the floor, glancing at Stiles’ face. It doesn’t help that there is no judgement there, just a sadness, and he internally huffs at Stiles’ damn empathy, that has already broken through so many of the walls he’s spent years building.

“Jackson!” he hears Peter’s voice almost like his conscience, and starts, flashing up in fear. Peter sounds angry, but his face has a similar expression to Stiles, which is _so_ not helping right now.  
“I’m sorry.” He hates how weak his voice sounds, so obviously close to tears, though it apparently has no effect on Peter.  
“You will be. I’ve had enough of you acting out like a child. Go to my office and wait for me there.”

So much disgrace, like being hosed with it, washing through him as he walks slowly to Peter’s office, making his knees almost buckle. He wants to run away – a thing he would never have contemplated such a short time ago – but knows there’s no point. The weakness of trusting people carries through: they wouldn’t let him. At least not without poking and prodding first, finding all of the frailties he’s hiding, stripping him bare.

He opens the office door and yelps, his hand promptly covering his mouth in embarrassment, because Chris is there. He knows his cheeks have gone pink and his eyes are watery, and he knows that Chris can see his mortification. He probably knows why, too. He knows Peter can tell that Jackson has a ridiculous needy little crush on him, and Chris is a man cut from the same terrifyingly dominant cloth (and the recipient of a similar crush); the kind of man who probably looks at a feeble little boy like Jackson, who fakes every ounce of confidence, and just sees right through each bit of bullshit he’s hiding behind. 

“Jackson. I think I can _see_ your mind working.” Chris sounds vaguely amused, not angry; yet. “Peter isn’t here.”  
“I know.” Jackson contemplates telling Chris what he did, but he doesn’t want to see his face change to fury at how difficult Jackson is to deal with. The decision is removed anyway, as Peter sweeps into the room and slams the door shut, clicking it locked.

“I would say I want an explanation, but we’ve had that conversation too many times before. I think it’s time to up the ante.”  
“Peter,” Chris’s voice sounds like a warning, but Jackson is impatient. If he’s going to get fired he’d rather it happens without going through the steps that he’s tried before, that lead to nothing more than humiliation when they fail, as they always do.  
“I’m not going to anger management again.”  
“You’ve tried that?” Chris seems surprised; well, of course he does – ‘fail’ is the key word.  
“My parents sent me. They decided that was why I wasn’t making money for them anymore.”  
“Well, that’s something we’ll be discussing. But, no, not anger management.”  
“Peter,” that one is _definitely_ a warning.  
“No, Chris, we’ve discussed this. It will work.”  
“It’s not fair. And we haven’t discussed it properly. You can’t put the boy in that position.”  
“What the hell are you two talking about! If you’re going to fire me, just to it, for fucks’ sake.”  
“You know I’m right, Chris. And this acting out is further proof.” Peter takes a step closer to Jackson, who glances to Chris, worried by the resignation that’s on his face. “Jackson, you haven’t been a good boy lately, have you?” There’s something in Peter’s words that sends a jolt to Jackson’s gut, but he just hangs his head in shame, the slightest shake acknowledging acquiescence. “You want to be a good boy though, don’t you?” Peter’s voice is so soft now, so understanding, that the sob that fills Jackson’s throat is on him before he can catch it.  
“We can forgive you, Jackson, but you need to be punished.” At Chris’ words Jackson is vaguely aware that he doesn’t even know why Peter’s mad, but it means they’ve been talking about him, and the idea that he’s important enough to warrant discussion by these two controlled, impressive men makes him suddenly eager to gain their forgiveness in any way.  
“True, Chris; well done for getting on board. This is going to be worth it, I promise.” Jackson wonders what that means, but he feels tension dripping out of him as he lets Peter guide him to stand in front of the broad wooden desk, feels the warmth of Peter’s hand on his lower back, and allows another hot tear to roll from his eye.

“Do you know why you’re being punished, baby?” Jackson notes the endearment and it makes a shiver run up his spine.  
“I broke the light.”  
“Not exactly. Or, not only. Why did you break it, sweetheart?”  
“Stiles said something that upset me.”  
“And you know why getting angry isn’t the right response?”  
“Stiles is my friend. He’s there for me and he cares about me. He’s understanding. And he deserves the same from me.”  
“Oh, such a perfect response, pup.” Chris is closer now, too, a big hand on Jackson’s shoulder, and he knows the two men have to have noticed the way his quivering body is reacting to the pet names.  
“But you know why we still have to punish you for it?” 

Jackson doesn’t, really. But he thinks, instead of instant reaction. He thinks they’ll like that, which is so distinct from his normal behavior, and he wants to do things that they like. A realization comes to him along with a distant memory of a conversation with Derek soon after they started filming. A comment where Derek had assumed Jackson had known Chris and Peter were together (that had been the first time he’d realized, and it had sent an entirely unfair dart of cold to his heart). And then there’s Jackson’s certainty that they’re both extremely dominant, powerful personalities, and he thinks he knows what they’re looking for from him.

“You need to punish me because I have to learn to not make the same mistakes. And I haven’t been learning with other methods.”  
“Will you ask what your punishment is?” Chris asks, and Jackson feels a burst of confidence.  
“No, Sir, I will accept the punishment you see fit.” He hears the pleasurable gasp that gets from both of them and feels the blood travelling south, biting his lips to try and make sure he stays focused on doing the right thing. Somehow, right now, it’s incredibly important to him that he does. 

“It’s crucial that punishments are negotiated as soon as possible after the infringement, but if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. And, this time, any point you want to stop, it will stop. We will talk afterwards, anyway, regardless of your decision.” Peter is still stroking his back, and Jackson has to stop himself from lolling his head at how relaxing he’s finding the touch.  
“Our boy is touch starved.” Peter’s voice is a whisper, aimed at Chris, but Jackson hears it like a klaxon, and it makes him want to cry again.  
“Your punishment will be a spanking.” Jackson lets out an involuntary whimper at Chris’ words. “As this is your first time, I will only use my hand, and only spank you ten times on bare skin, or twenty times through your pants. Your choice.”  
“Ba- uh, ten times, please, Sir.”

Peter leans into his ear, tickling with hot breath.  
“You are a natural, sweetheart. I knew it.” Chris lets out a huff, and Jackson has a moment where he wonders how their relationship usually works. Although it’s obvious they’re together (he ignores the fact it wasn’t obvious to him until he was told), he’s pretty sure he’s never spotted anything that suggests anyone else is involved, though maybe they have someone and keep him hidden away.

Peter unfastens his pants and pushes them down, along with his underwear. He tries not to be embarrassed at his half hard cock; besides, Peter makes a sound that seems approving as he strokes a hand over the curve of Jackson’s muscular ass.  
“So beautiful, baby. Bend for me.” Suddenly Jackson is being arranged, bent over the desk on his forearms, his back arched down at a touch from Peter, his legs spread as wide as they’ll go with the fabric pooled around his ankles. When he’s in position, he feels Chris’ cool hand on him as he leans in, his voice sounding rough.  
“Because this is a punishment spanking, you have to count the spanks, and thank me after each one.”  
“I understand, Sir.” Peter almost squeaks at that, and Chris shushes him, but he sounds amused.

When Chris lands the first slap, Jackson yelps in shock, despite the warning he’d been given. It hurts more than he’d expected and he almost forgets to count, and say ‘thank you, Sir’, but Chris pauses long enough to give him chance to remember. By the time his on the sixth swat, his cock is fully hard, and he’s moaning his words out. It isn’t until the ninth that something snaps and he gulps it down only long enough for Chris to land the final spank, harder than all the others. Jackson’s sobs burst from him, uncontrolled and uncontrollable.  
“You did so good, pup. Well done. You’re forgiven.” Jackson had no idea how much he needed to hear that, and wails even louder, unable to even help himself as Peter pulls his pants away and guides him to the huge gray couch, pulling him down so he can cry into Peter’s shoulder.

Peter strokes Jackson’s back as he helps the boy curl up next to him, accepting the blanket Chris offers to cover Jackson’s perfect, glowing, ass. Chris goes to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and a plate of cut fruit (stolen from Peter’s lunch, but he can certainly live with that) and Peter guides Jackson’s head up so Chris can take care of him. This is Chris’ bit after all; the immediate aftercare – Peter is here as a soothing presence only, for the time being. Luckily Peter keeps some aloe gel in the attached bathroom, and Chris carefully applies some to Jackson’s burning backside, before covering him back up. When Jackson has calmed down, Peter keeps running his fingers through his short hair, and the boy is asleep minutes later, a peace to him that is always missing when he’s awake. 

“Told you so,” he smirks at Chris, who had been looking down fondly at the sight the pair of them make, but scowls at Peter’s words.  
“And you’re fucking lucky you can say that. Because it was one step away from a wholly legitimate harassment case. Fuck, it still might be.”  
“So why’d you go along with it?”  
Chris shrugs, but allows the faintest grin to cross his face. “As if I could have turned that opportunity down. He’s perfect. Did you hear his voice when he called me Sir?”  
“I couldn’t miss it. And your reaction.” Peter chuckles, feeling incredibly content, for the first time in a while. Chris and he need this. They’ve both felt desire toward Jackson for a long time, itching to take him, and all his difficulties, under their wings, but holding back – Chris more uncertain than Peter – not sure how he’d react. They’ve always worked best with a third, though the love they feel for each other does overcome when they’re on their own. But this…this has promise.

* * * * * 

Chris has always been the sensible one. When he and Peter met, as teenagers, and embarked on a passionate affair, Chris had been the one that planned, and made sure no one found out. Peter was never one to conform though, and, even if Chris had loved that side of him, it had still broken him when his father had found out about them because of Peter’s refusal to continue hiding, and moved their family halfway across the country to get them away from each other. Chris had always had a tumultuous relationship with his father, but that was the final straw, and the minute he was financially independent, he’d cut his whole family off and moved back to California. 

He’d had a successful marriage, which produced Allison, who was the light of his life, but when his wife had been diagnosed with a muscle wasting disease and subsequently taken her own life due to a fear of becoming a burden on her family, he’d thought that was it for him. Until he’d come across Peter again, completely by accident on his side (though not on Peter’s, as he’d discovered some time later). They’d picked up almost as if they’d never been apart, right down to the secrecy, but this time Peter was more amenable, having lost his wife and child in a vicious divorce when his wife had discovered a less-than-clandestine affair he’d been having with his, male, secretary. 

Chris hadn’t approved, hearing that – had even been a little disgusted – but he forgave Peter when he’d been suitably punished. And that was the new thing. They’d both discovered certain…proclivities in their time apart, which weren’t completely at odds (as Peter is _extremely_ versatile), but led to them experimenting with new people. Their most recent foray had been wonderful for the two years it lasted, until the young man had announced he was moving overseas, without even any discussion, and Chris realized he’d never been quite as submissive as he’d pretended (actors, huh?). He’d been more broken by it than Peter – the betrayal impacting him far more – and had been reluctant to enter into anything permanent in the three years since.

But Jackson is different. He hopes.

* * * * * 

“Why are we here, Sir?” Jackson asks, adorably nervous, glancing around the dimly lit restaurant; one of the best in the city.  
“You don’t have to call me Sir,” Peter tells him.  
“What should I call you?” Jackson whispers it, a little something in his eyes that makes Peter bite his lip.  
“I’m sure we’ll work something out.” He has hopes, but he won’t put pressure on Jackson to perform. It has to be what he wants too, Peter just wants to be right in his guess it _is_ what Jackson wants and needs.

“We need to discuss our terms,” Chris tells him.  
“Are you- do you want me for-,” Jackson ducks his head.  
“What we do is up to you. You’ve worked out we’re dominant?”  
“Yeah. And I looked some things up. I appreciate it, you know. I already feel- I don’t know, better. Calmer. After this afternoon. Is that want you want, to guide me to be a better person? To correct me with punishments when I don’t make the right choices?” He _has_ been doing his research. Peter will leave this side of it to Chris, though. Chris is the one who likes contracts and agreements, and etiquette. Peter is happy to follow that – but it’s Chris’ kink, not his. His is a little more straightforward.  
“That is part of it. Until we have discussed it, the only thing I ask – or demand, really – is that you’re honest with us, and we’ll do the same for you. Don’t be embarrassed by wanting to clarify anything at all.”  
“Okay. So are you two actually attracted to me? Or is it just about me being submissive?”  
“Sweetheart, did you look in a mirror lately? You might be wonderfully submissive, secretly, but we’re certainly attracted to you.” Peter can’t help himself, even though he’d thought he’d leave it to Chris. He can tell Jackson has all sorts of hang ups, but the boy can’t possibly think he’s anything other than gorgeous.  
“I suspect that isn’t what Jackson’s asking, Peter.” Chris takes Jackson’s hand in his. “We’ve been drawn to you since we met you. You hide so much of yourself and that vulnerability, that submissive underbelly, is very enticing to us, of course, but you’re also sharp and snarky and bratty, and we’re taken by all the sides of your personality that we’ve seen.”  
“Oh. Okay.” Damn, Chris is really good at this. Much more than Peter. But Jackson is looking a little happier, and that’s all Peter needs to see to make his heart swell. It makes him wonder though. He’s wanted Jackson for a while, but the boy seems to have got further under his skin than he realized. 

“So, you promised I could ask anything, right?”  
“I did. By the way, Peter doesn’t require the authority of ‘Sir’, but, when we aren’t in company, it is what I’d prefer. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to shout it over the restaurant, but whenever possible.”  
“Of course, Sir, I’m sorry.” Jackson flushes, but it doesn’t look like embarrassment to Peter – the opposite, if anything. “Uh, so the stuff I read. Relationships between Dominants and submissives aren’t necessarily about sex, they’re about the exchange of power, so I’m guessing you want me to submit my control to you, and let you guide me, which I’ve thought about a lot since…before, and I think I want that. But, is that the way you do that? Do you have someone already, because you’re both dominant?”  
“Are you asking if we’d be exclusive, pup?”  
“Partly?”  
“Oh, I see. Well, first of all, Peter and I have been on our own for multiple periods in our relationship, and Peter is a switch.” Peter certainly doesn’t miss the look that information puts on their boy’s face, and smirks. “But when we have had a third in the past, we do operate exclusively, bar negotiated additions for play. And it is a full relationship, albeit twenty-four/seven D/s.” 

Jackson’s face goes through several expressions as he tries to work out what the hell Chris just said, and Peter can’t blame him. He already _knows_ this stuff, and he’s confused.  
“Baby, you’d be our boy. In vanilla-speak we’d be boyfriends, in a committed triad – if it doesn’t freak you out to jump all those standard dating steps – but to us, you’d be our boy, and Chris would be your Sir, and I’d look after you, and take care of all the praise and hugs I know you’re aching for.”  
“Not all of them,” Chris huffs, and Jackson laughs, seemingly delighted by the idea.  
“So would you be, like, a Daddy, or something?” Jackson won’t make eye contact, clearly concerned he might not get the reaction he’s looking for, but he’s still smiling.  
“I would be honored to be, if you’d like that.” Peter won’t fist pump, but it’s all going on inside his head.  
“Yeah. I think I would. So, you said we’d be like boyfriends. So it’s not one of those things where we’d have a contract for three months or something?”  
“No, pup. If you agree to it, you’ll be ours.” The ‘forever’ certainly finishes Chris' sentence in Peter’s mind. The boy is completely under his skin already, and he likes it.


	2. There are Times I Begin to Begin Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, Jackson isn't OOC I promise (okay maybe a little) - I love it when he's presented as a little fragile underneath the bolshiness; it's my favorite aspect of him, especially in relation to his friendship with Stiles (though that isn't the focus of this fic) - so we're getting to the fragility with a hammer's-worth of subtlety.

Jackson feels strange, pacing his small apartment, waiting for a phone call. Twenty-four- no, thirty-six hours ago he’d been ‘himself’, or at least what he’s thought of as being himself for the last ten years. He’s become so used to the unending anger he feels that it is simply a defining part of his personality. Being spiky protects him, even in his interactions with the small group of people he considers friends. Though, thinking about that, he tries to remember when the friends he used to have, the ones from before he got the part in ‘Scott’s Landing’, fell off his radar and were replaced, slowly but surely, by the people on set – the people he almost manages to consider family, even if he’s never admitted that, before.

It hasn’t even been that long – less than a year – but Stiles is more important to him than his old best friend ever managed to be. He mainly allows himself to feel nothing more than protective over the rest of them – an excuse to be sarcastic and angry on their behalves without ever really letting them in. It’s been exhausting though. A constant battle between his internalized fury and what he truly wants. Even now, the idea pains him. He might not be capable of articulating it, but inside his own mind he’s always known he fears more abandonment. 

When he was a kid, he was on a high. People used to cite his name when they claimed you didn’t have to avoid working with children. He was charming and polite. Always on his best behavior. Talented. His parents showered him in adulation, as did everyone he worked with. His cheek was pinched daily and he loved it. Awards flowed in and even his tutors claimed he was the hardest working child in Hollywood. Then his voice broke – early, of course, why would he be allowed to hold onto that for longer than necessary? He shot up, developed greasy hair and natural musculature. He wasn’t fucking _cute_ anymore. 

For a kid who had made a living off being an adorable little bundle of sweet blond precociousness, it was the worst possible thing. Suddenly, he wasn’t wanted on the kind of movies he’d been perfect for, and the casting crew hadn’t trusted him with the more nuanced stuff, unable to see past his Disney-esque image. And when the income had dried up, his parents’ love had gone with it. He should be thankful, he supposes, that they’d sent him to boarding school when it became clear he was a nobody all over again – at least he hadn’t had to watch their disdain on a daily basis. And then, when he was eighteen, he’d discovered that they’d spent every penny he’d earned, and he was on his own. 

He’d given up then. And it had been Peter who’d saved him, coming into the high-end restaurant he bussed tables at and recognizing him instantly as the grown up version of the child who had acted in one of his first shows – one of the last roles he’d had before they dried up – and told him to audition for the new show he was creating. And here he is, pacing the tiny living room that’s paid for with that role, feeling like a different person and not sure if he likes it, waiting for that same man to call him.

And it terrifies him. What they want from him. What they think he is. He isn’t that, and he can’t pretend, even if it means he’ll lose them, so soon after it began. 

* * * * * 

“You know we’ll have to take this easy, right?”  
Peter rests his head back against Chris’ shoulder and shrugs, stroking his fingers along Chris’. He doesn’t laugh at his partner, even though it isn’t Peter who goes in hard and fast with the emotions. He knows that even the friends they have in the lifestyle would never guess it’s that way. Outside the lifestyle, most people assume they’re a match made in heaven because they’re both no-nonsense; stern, business-first. Probably think their home life is cold as fuck. People who know they’re Doms, though, see Chris as the strict authoritarian and Peter as the soft and caring one. But, maybe it’s that Chris’ need is so much greater than his, the _need_ to dominate affecting how attached he gets. Chris’ heart is the one that needs taking care of, and Peter’s happy to be the one to do it.

“He seemed pretty open to it last night. He wants what we’re offering,” Peter opines.  
“He doesn’t understand what we’re offering.”  
“But he was open to being guided. And he didn’t even need prompting with the ‘Daddy’ and ‘Sir’.”  
“True. But you know him. When has that boy _ever_ not fought? He’s had all day to think about how this isn’t him.”  
“But it is?”  
“Of course it is. You and I both recognized that months ago. But it’s entirely new for him. Don’t push him too hard.”  
“But I want to,” Peter doesn’t even care that he’s whining. They’ve both wanted Jackson for _ever_ but Chris stopped him from making a move – always saying Jackson is too fragile for what they want. But Peter won’t feel guilty for pushing it yesterday. Chris, and Jackson, were just as into it as he was, maybe more so. He can look after both his boys if it comes down to it.

* * * * * 

“Don’t be nervous, baby.”  
“Don’t start that, Peter.” Chris is severe, and Jackson can’t help flinching, which earns Chris a scowl from Peter.  
“And don’t you be cruel.”  
“I’m not, but we can’t let Jackson go to his headspace without discussing this properly.”  
“Headspace?”  
“You’re a natural submissive Jackson.”  
Jackson snorts derisively. “No I’m not. You have met me, right?”  
“Baby,” Peter sticks his tongue out at Chris, “you hide it, but you are. Believe me, we can tell.”  
“But…” Jackson doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t. He isn’t submissive, ever. He’s dominant and aggressive and- and, fucking _angry_ , always. 

“Yesterday, why did you let me spank you?” Chris’ voice is soft – no judgement to be heard – but Jackson feels himself flush, mainly because he doesn’t really know.  
“It felt like I needed to. You said after that you forgave me for getting mad at Stiles. Didn’t you?”  
“Yes, you were forgiven, but we could have worked it out another way.”  
“You didn’t tell me that! I thought you were mad. I thought you’d fire me. This is the first time-,”  
“No,” Chris sounds stern now, “I made it clear you didn’t have to. And Peter was clear you weren’t getting fired.”  
Jackson whimpers at the accusation. “No.”  
“I told you this was too much.” Chris sounds even more stern, but at least it’s aimed at Peter and not him.  
“But he reacted so perfectly, I really thought- and last night, at dinner, I thought he understood.”

Suddenly Chris and Peter are seated on either side of him, but Peter’s couch is huge, and they aren’t touching him. And Jackson hates it. He wants them closer.  
“I’m sorry, Jackson. We’ve gone about this completely wrong.” Wait. Is Chris saying they don’t want him? He thought, when they talked last night…Though he isn’t surprised he’s messing this up.  
“Fuck. And we’re still doing this completely wrong. Look at him.” Peter moves closer, until there’s only a sliver of space between them, carefully closing it with a hand on Jackson’s thigh. 

Jackson stares at the hand, willing it to squeeze, or move up, or even take his own hand, which is resting limply.   
“Will you be with us, baby boy?”  
Jackson whimpers. “Yes,” he whispers, inching his fingers closer.  
“Both of us?” Chris is there, on the other side, his hand coming to rest on the small of Jackson’s back, and Jackson nods, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes at just how overwhelming this is. 

* * * * * 

Okay. If Peter can be completely honest with himself (and of course he can), he’s fucking _confused_. He thinks back over what they talked about at dinner. He knows it had been Jackson who was the first to actually bring up the label of submissive (because Peter had done a major internal happy dance when it happened), and Jackson had also been the one to make it clear he’d looked into it. But now…he’s acting like he doesn’t even want it, and that breaks Peter’s heart, even if Chris warned him this would happen. 

He takes Jackson’s fingertips in his, stroking the knuckles with his thumb. Jackson slumps a little, as if that touch alone is enough to get him to relax.  
“Shh, baby.” Peter pulls his head gently into the crook of his neck, stroking the short hairs at his nape.  
“Daddy,” Jackson mumbles, and Peter shoots Chris a look of utter bewilderment, but Chris’s concerned eyes clear.  
“It’s okay, pup. You know what? Let’s not worry about labels. We want you. You want us. Let’s just go with the flow.”  
“Please, Sir, yes, like that.” 

Okay, so Peter can see it properly now. Jackson has never considered his needs the way he and Chris just demanded of him – that label that means so much that is negative to a strong, virile young man, even though it shouldn’t. To Chris and Peter it’s a beautiful label, and an honor to them to possess someone who needs what it suggests. But not to Jackson. And a night and day on his own had allowed him to become fearful of it. 

Well, they’re just going to have to get him unfearful, aren’t they?

“Can we talk about what happened in Peter’s office?” Peter isn’t surprised that Chris is all over this – what happened is his ‘thing’ after all, but he is worried Chris is already pushing Jackson too fast and is going to freak him out more. But he’s astonished, yet again.  
“Yeah. Do I get to talk about how it made me feel?”  
“It’s important that we do. When you do things that hurt, emotionally, how do you usually feel after?”  
“Like shit. I know I’m not a good person, and people understand that and accept it.” Peter rolls his eyes but stays quiet. He’s actually a little impressed at how easily Jackson is talking to them about this stuff – he knows it’s not the norm – and he isn’t going to risk putting him off. “But I still feel bad when I hurt someone.”  
“Okay, and we can think about that more later, but it’s _you_ I’m worried about for now. How did your head feel when I spanked you?” Peter is impressed at the way Chris is bringing up the concepts without labelling them, but it’s going to get complicated quickly if they can’t use the metalanguage.  
“I- I liked it.” Jackson isn’t looking at either of them, but Peter will take that if he’ll just keep talking. “Even though it really hurt. No one’s ever- my parents didn’t even spank me when I was little, though I think they probably wanted to when I was a teenager.” Jackson chuckles self-deprecatingly and Peter feels a flash of anger. He only has limited information about how Jackson’s parents treated him (from when Jackson was his more expected, closed-off self), but enough to make educated guesses on how badly they abandoned him right when he needed their support. “But when I got over the first couple, it started to feel kind of good. Like a warm feeling in my tummy. But I think I got a bit swamped. I’m sorry I cried.”  
“Don’t be. A lot of people find it really cathartic. Your mind focuses on the hits and it can unlock parts of your brain that you’re trying to keep locked up in an unhealthy way.”  
“So- so you _liked_ that it made me cry?” Jackson is clearly trying to get his head around how this works, but he doesn’t sound snappy.  
“No. For some Do- people, it can be about that, but for me, it’s that I liked helping you let go. I liked how pliable you became when your body let go of a piece of pain in that way. It was beautiful. And I liked looking after you when it happened. We both did.”

“I’m not a-,” Jackson is clearly struggling – looking for a word that holds minimal offence, even when it’s apparent he feels he deserves something awful.   
“Baby, it’s not a weakness to appreciate someone taking care of you.” Peter can butt in now. _This_ is his side of it, after all. “You haven’t had it easy, and Chris and I know how strong you are. But we also know how hard you’ve tamped down the other side of you and what we’re saying is that you don’t need to do that anymore. We can be here to help, if you’ll allow it. It takes a lot of fortitude to transfer your power to someone else, to let them be in control.”  
“Let them?” Peter sighs, quietly though, because the last thing he wants is for Jackson to shy away from asking questions. But, seriously, _every single_ sub needs power exchange explaining, and he wants to get to the bit afterward, when it’s already been accepted (though he’s aware that a lot of that has to do with the types of boys he and Chris like to share their lives with – they don’t make it easy for themselves).

“Jackson, you’re fully capable of looking after yourself. You do it every day. So if you allow us to take care of you, and take responsibility for your wellbeing, it isn’t because you’re too weak, it’s because you’re voluntarily allowing us to have that power over you.”  
“Why would I do that, Sir?”  
“Because it fulfills a need you have, and needs we have.”   
“Sex?”  
“For us, yes, it’s a part of it. Not every…relationship like this includes sex. But it would for us. And, if you like, we can just start with that.”  
“So, you would just boss me around in the bedroom?”   
Peter snorts a laugh. “Simplified, but yes.”  
“What kind of things are you two into?”  
“We will have to discuss that.” Chris – always with the contracts.  
“A kink list?”  
“You have been doing your research.”  
“Freaked me out more than anything.”  
“Fair. There’s a lot of weird shit online. But that’s why we discuss what you’re willing to allow, and you always have the option to stop anything we’re doing, regardless of anything on the list. The power always stops with you.”

“Can you show me?” Chris looks concerned. He doesn’t like to do anything without full negotiation before they start, but Peter can see that would overwhelm Jackson, and there’s no way he’s having his boy run out on them, so he’s taking over.  
“How do you feel about being cuffed?”  
“Handcuffs? Yes, please.”  
“Please, what?”  
“Yes, please Daddy?”  
“Good boy. Have you been bound more than that before?”  
“Uh,” his face is pink and it’s fucking adorable, “yeah. I dated a guy a while ago, and he liked to tie me up a bit, you know, arms and legs, and he’d, uh, play with me. Put things inside me. It’s the only time…”  
“You aren’t normally a bottom, baby?”  
“No,” he waves an arm over himself. “People expect…”  
“I can imagine, sweetheart. Which is why you’re going to look so amazing, giving yourself over to us.” Jackson is looking at his knees, but he has a tiny pleased smile, and Peter will take that. 

When they stand in the bedroom, Jackson seems relaxed, but they both know this is the riskiest time.   
“We’re going to do a really minor scene, pup. All you have to do is enjoy yourself. We’ll use the traffic light system, so if you want to stop, for any reason at all, just say ‘red’ and everything stops. You won’t get into trouble for anything at all this time, because we haven’t talked about any of our limits or expectations, but you will _never_ get into trouble for saying red, no matter what we’re doing. If you don’t want to stop, but you need a break, say ‘yellow’. And if we ask what your color is and you’re happy with things, say ‘green’. We’ll be asking you your color a lot at first, until we all start to get used to each other. What color are you now?”  
“Green.”

“Take your clothes off, baby boy.” Jackson pauses, clearly about to ask whether they’ll be doing the same, and the openness in his eyes as he processes the decision not to ask makes Peter shiver, as does the sight of his tightly toned abdominals as he raises his shirt. He stops for a moment, thinking again, his pretty eyes flicking between the two men as they watch him impassively, before he carefully folds his t-shirt and places it on the chair.  
“Well done, pup.”  
Peter is struggling not to grin; he’d hate to break the vibe of delicious tenseness. But to discover, from Jackson’s wide-eyed whimper in response to Chris’ words, that his boy has a praise kink, just made an extra batch of his dreams come true. Jackson does the same with the rest of his clothes until he’s standing before them, naked, with the inkling of a smug smile. He knows he’s stunning, and he deserves the admiration he’s getting. 

Peter moves closer, stroking a long finger along Jackson’s high cheekbone.  
“Am I allowed to speak?” he whispers, glancing guiltily to Chris.  
“Yes, sweetheart. We’ll always tell you if you’re not. Unless you want to not be allowed?”  
“Uh, I’m not sure. I don’t talk loads when- anyway, I don’t think I’d find it hard, so if you like that, I’m okay with it.”   
Chris approaches then, not touching, but looking sharper than before. “Well, if it’s easy, there isn’t much point to making a rule about it.”  
“Does it always have to be difficult, er, Sir?” There’s no attitude to his voice: an honest enquiry.  
“No, but you need to feel you’ve achieved something, pup. If we set you challenges that are easy, you won’t have that and you, more than most, would miss it.” Jackson nods, like he understands, and it makes Peter even more hopeful. “Besides, whatever else we agree, for tonight you can definitely talk, because we want to know how you’re affected.”

That’s Peter’s cue, and he guides Jackson to the bed, laying him on his back.  
“Going to cuff your wrists, beautiful.” He accepts the soft leather cuffs from Chris, deftly wrapping and buckling them around Jackson’s surprisingly narrow wrists. His boy’s breathing becomes shorter at that, as he tips his head back to watch as Peter clips them together above his head, and then uses the chain extension to connect them to the headboard.  
“Can you get free, baby?”  
“No, Daddy, I’m stuck.” Peter isn’t sure if he likes the innocent lilt blending with his voice, or the little wriggle he gives, most, and quickly decides they’re both equal.  
“Color, baby?”  
“Green, Daddy. I know you’ll look after me.” That deserves a kiss, and Peter lowers his head to meet Jackson’s soft lips, half expecting him to press back forcefully, but instead taken in by sweet acquiescence, as Jackson lets Peter control each step, his lips falling open as Peter tickles along the seam with his tongue, allowing him to explore to his heart’s content. When he finally pulls back and sees Jackson’s eyes blown wide he’s dying to comment to Chris, but it would break the mood. Besides, when he catches Chris’ eye he can tell it hasn’t gone unnoticed; that their gorgeous boy is even more of a natural than they’d suspected – slipping right into a submissive headspace without any real prompting: a controlling kiss, bound wrists – this is all he needs.

He and Chris haven’t done much planning for how this is going to go – not being sure at what would greet them when they opened the door to Jackson (exactly on time, but looking horribly nervous, which might be a first on both counts for the boy). Whilst Peter would quite like to have been balls deep in his delicious boy a good ten minutes ago, he can tell that Chris is just pleased it’s going so well. 

Peter knows Chris won’t push his agenda of his own volition tonight. Their needs are so different that Chris’ can usually only be fulfilled after a lot of mandatory negotiation, so Peter is always conscious that in the early days of something new, Chris tends to get left out a little. Well, voyeurism is definitely on his list, so it isn’t all bad, but Peter doesn’t think that will be necessary now, with what they’ve already seen, and he’s determined that Chris won’t simply be an aroused bystander for this, even if he might have to push him a little. He’s not worried; he knows his love’s limits, and Chris is just as able to safeword out as Jackson if he doesn’t like it. 

“Baby boy, how do you feel about performing oral?”  
“Uh, green, Daddy.” Jackson bites his lip, but his eyes bely any nerves.  
“Okay. Well, Daddy just wants to play with his baby boy for a while, how about you keep your Sir’s cock warm for him while I do that?”  
“Yes, please. Can I, Sir?” Chris chuckles at his enthusiasm, but Peter can’t help but note he’s stripped his clothes off within ten seconds.  
He hands Jackson a squeaky ball. “Squeak it.” Jackson does, the obnoxious noise loud, making him giggle. “You won’t be able to speak, so squeeze the ball once if you just need me out of your mouth, and press it a few times if you want everything to stop. Now, you’re only keeping me warm, so no sucking, though you can swallow if you need to. Now, I don’t know what your Daddy has planned, but it’s bound to be intense, knowing him, so do not be afraid to stop things if it gets too much.”  
“I understand, Sir. I’m still green.”  
“Such a good pup,” Chris murmurs as he props Jackson’s head with a pillow, before straddling his face and gently resting the tip of his soft cock against his lips. “Open up for me.” He slides in partially, just letting Jackson get used to the weight resting on his tongue. His legs parted on either side of Jackson’s head makes quite a sight for Peter, who’d like to play with both his boys at once, but he won’t tonight – not when this is all for Jackson. Another time, though, and he makes a pleasurable mental note.

Instead Peter sets to work, nipping and nibbling down Jackson’s smooth, golden skin, following the divots of hard-earned muscles with his tongue. The muffled noises are validation enough, but when he finally latches onto a small brown nipple and lightly sucks, he’s rewarded by muted yowl and a buck that makes him clutch Jackson’s sides to stop him from getting thrown off. The vibrations are clearly having an effect on Chris too, who moans in sync, and Peter knows he’s thickening in Jackson’s mouth, filling that space beautifully. He keeps sucking one, twisting and scraping manicured nails over the other, swapping and pinching until they’re both a little red and a lot puffy with arousal. He can feel Jackson’s hardness under his own ass and grinds down a little, having some fun with the teasing overstimulation.   
“Hmmm, so nipple play is green then,” he whispers to himself, but looks up to meet Chris’ sardonic gaze and raised eyebrow. 

Peter moves down Jackson’s undulating body, tickling a finger down his leaking length, running it back up, along a pulsing vein, before taking hold firmly, listening for Jackson’s pleased noises, that quickly turn frustrated as Peter makes sure he becomes aware that the pressure and the pace isn’t going to increase – just a constant, taunting movement, not quite enough to get him off. He can’t go too far yet, not without working out limits, but he has a feeling this will be another green, especially when Jackson realizes how intense his pleasure can get when he lets Peter tease him. With their kink overlaps being incomplete, edging is one area where Peter and Chris do get plenty of practice when it’s just the two of them, and Peter accidentally humps against Jackson’s leg when he allows himself the image of both him and Chris driving Jackson wild with pent up desire. It’s going to be epic. 

Peter is circling Jackson’s tightly furled hole with one slick finger, pinning his thigh down with an almost harsh grip, when Chris shifts back.  
“Color, pup.”  
“Green, Sir. Sir, please can I suck you? Will you use my throat? Please. I can do that, you know.” Fuck, his voice is delicious, rough and gravelly, and Peter knows Chris’ impressive length has already been resting at the apex of Jackson’s throat.  
“You ask so nicely, pup. Where are you on facials?”  
“Green, Sir, please.”   
“So sweet,” Chris groans, gliding back into Jackson’s eager mouth, and Peter decides he’s earned a reward, finally pushing his finger inside and moving it to the same rhythm as Chris’ hips. He adds another finger, though that’s the limit for now, and only because the double pads allow him to seek the soft point inside Jackson with ease, hitting it on each thrust forward. Jackson’s mewling now, high-pitched around the thick cock, cut off each time it slides into his throat. Chris is getting closer, his hips snapping, mumbling filth that Jackson probably can’t even hear, but Peter can, though he resists the temptation to touch himself, his focus taken up by the sweet boy doing his best (and clearly successfully). When Peter knows Chris won’t hold back for more than a minute longer, he takes Jackson into his mouth, adding a rhythmic suck to the feelings he’s giving.

When Chris pulls out with a yell and shoots his load over Jackson’s face, Peter’s a little disappointed in himself because he’d hoped to get Jackson there simultaneously, and thought he might, as he’s tensing beautifully under him.  
“Please, Daddy, please, I can’t hold on anymore.” Chris chuckles as he climbs off, lowering his face to Jackson’s and licking a stripe of cum from his cheek.  
“No need, pup. Daddy wants you to come.” And Jackson lets go with a relieved whine.

“Such a good boy,” Chris strokes his hair as he unfastens the bonds, rubbing Jackson’s wrists and arms as Peter rests his head on Jackson’s sharp hip, his fingers unmoving but still buried inside that hot hole. Jackson pulls himself up, wincing as the fingers slide out.  
“What are you doing, baby?”  
“You didn’t get to come yet.”  
“No need. I just wanted to make you happy.”  
“But I want to, please.” Jackson is gazing at him with such sweet focus, still decorated with Chris’ cum.  
“You look so pretty baby. Can’t wait till we both can paint your face that way.”  
“Do it now, please, Daddy.”  
“Oh, darling, you’re so deep in this already, aren’t you? So sweet for us. Okay, sit on the edge of the bed.”

Peter stands, guiding Jackson’s mouth to his cock. He isn’t quite as endowed as Chris, but he still needs to take care, knowing Jackson’s throat is rough, so he lets him lead, sucking and licking devotedly, until he slides his mouth, using one hand on the base and the other massaging Peter’s balls while he sucks the head, flicking his tongue over the sensitive frenulum. Peter is already close, the pleasure he gets from pleasing his boy enough to get him halfway there and he lets himself go, pulling back at the last moment to add his own release to Jackson’s pretty face.  
“Thank you Daddy. And thank you, Sir, for before.” Jackson pants, letting Chris lay him back down.

They lay close for a while before Chris goes for water and warm cloths, helping Jackson to sit up and drink.  
“Did I do okay?” he sounds more normal; less like a sweet boy, though Peter knows it’s not simply an act. Some of them do play it just for fun, but he can tell it isn’t that way for Jackson – rather, it’s a headspace for him. A place where he can be needy, and maybe a little demanding (though Peter’s only suspecting that so far, he is hoping he’s right – he loves a demanding boy).  
“You were perfect, baby. Do you think you’re ready to talk about what this means?”  
“I think I might be,” Jackson smiles, and Peter can’t resist bending in for another taste of that delicious, submissive mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original intention was to jump to 'current time' with the last chapter, but I'm tempted to add one more chapter of pure filth in the early days of their relationship (and extend to 4 total) - but is there a call for filth?


	3. Welcome to Your Life, There's No Turning Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I promised filth, but I just can’t *do* BDSM dynamics without a shit-ton of negotiation and discussion, I just can’t. So before the smut (and maybe it’s not *quite* filth, too) there’s a lot of talking. I really hope I haven’t made it boring – I try not to, but am never sure of my success levels.

Jackson fucked up.

It had been going so well, too, until this morning. They’ve seen each other every night this week and, even though they haven’t actually had sex yet, Jackson’s starting to get used how his two boyfriends work. That, for a start. The ‘boyfriend’ thing. That’s all Peter. 

Watching Peter in action has got him hard for a long time – because he’s gorgeous, because he’s powerful, because he’s demanding. But he _likes_ Peter for other reasons, now. Peter, who has no qualms in sweeping Jackson in his arms, peppering tickly kisses all over his face, no problem with telling Jackson how sweet, and lovely, and good he is, no worries with just pulling Jackson to him and snuggling close. 

Chris isn’t the same. The look Peter gets when Jackson bites his lip and calls him Daddy, Chris gets every time Jackson follows an instruction without question. Before this, he’d never have considered himself a rule-follower, but it’s easy with Chris. He feels a pleasure in his chest when he does a good job, whether it’s keeping his things neat, or relaxing his jaw to take Chris’ entire length. Chris has expectations of him – the first person in a long time – and he likes meeting them.

Nothing went right this morning though. His phone died overnight (that weird power drain they do sometimes for no reason), so he wasn’t even awake when his driver arrived to take him to set. Then it turned out there’d been a cock-up with the revised script, which had never been couriered to him, so everyone else was prepared with their new lines and he was working cold, causing countless pauses and re-shots. It had made everyone tense, but he still shouldn’t have sworn at the production assistant and he definitely shouldn’t have thrown a cup of hot (wrong) coffee in her general direction, only barely missing Derek with the burning liquid. 

So here he is, waiting in Peter’s office for the guillotine to drop. 

He’s not surprised when Chris follows Peter in, and even less surprised that they both look angry. He takes a surreptitious breath, trying to hold tears back. There’s no use laying on the waterworks. He knows he’s done wrong. That he’s back to square one, after all the support they’ve been giving him. And that’s if they even _let_ him. Maybe he’s too much for them. He’d be too much for himself.

“Stand up, pup.” That’s a good sign, isn’t it? He barely dares hope it might be okay, eventually.  
“What do you have to say for yourself, Jackson?” That’s not great. Peter always uses a pet name. Jackson likes it, a lot. He doesn’t like the cold way Peter’s speaking now. He wants to stay tough, he really does, but he can feel everything welling up from his stomach.  
“Please,” he whispers, and sees Peter’s stern façade crack a little. “Please don’t make me go away. I understand if you fire me, if people won’t work with me, but please don’t **you** get rid of me.”  
“Oh, baby, we aren’t going to do that. This isn’t about sending you away, I promise.” Peter moves in, wrapping his arms around Jackson and pulling him close, stroking his hair and rubbing their cheeks together.  
“I think it’s about time we spoke seriously about our expectations Peter. Jackson needs discipline. Not knowing where he stands with us is affecting his wellbeing.”

Jackson agrees readily, though of course he doesn’t get out of the spanking that he knows he’s due after his behavior, or out of the public apology they send him out to make to the production assistant, Derek, and the rest of the cast and crew. 

It’s okay, he reasons in the back of the town car taking him to Chris and Peter’s home. He feels lighter.

* * * * * 

Chris isn’t sure about Peter’s idea to get Jackson relaxed for their conversation, though he has to admit the sight of his strong, naked body bound to their ergonomically designed chaise, arms over his head and legs spread across the padded armrests, is stimulating, to say the least.   
“If he slips into his headspace we’ll have to unfasten him,” he tells Peter; serious in the face of Peter’s shit-eating grin.  
“You can stay focused, can’t you, baby boy?”  
“Yes Peter. I promise.” His face and chest are flushed beautifully pink – no protection from embarrassment when he can’t slip.

Peter sits on the floor, a grounding hand on Jackson’s muscular thigh – or maybe just an excuse to touch up their pretty boy, but Chris chooses the couch opposite, determined to monitor Jackson while they talk.   
“Tell me why you struggled today.”  
“Got frustrated. Things went wrong all day. I’m really sorry I over-reacted.”  
‘And you’re forgiven, Jackson. You took your punishment. But I’m concerned at how easily you become frustrated.” He can see the panic in Jackson’s eyes and sees the benefit in the bindings now, as Peter strokes his skin until he’s calm again. “I want to incorporate discipline spankings as a regular feature of our relationship. I told you spanking helps you to focus on something other than the things that are bothering you, helping you to let them go. Having them prescribed should keep your mood more level.”  
“Will they hurt as much as today?” Chris hadn’t gone easy on him this afternoon – using far more force than the first time – and his backside is still red now.   
“No. They aren’t punishment. They aren’t about reminding through pain, but rather about giving you focus and releasing pleasurable endorphins. I suspect you’re actually going to look forward to them when they make you feel good, and we can incorporate them into a larger scene, time permitting. We will have a set time for them, though I may choose to administer an additional discipline session if I feel like your mind is taking over at any time. No need to respond yet, we will talk about some more aspects first.” 

Chris makes a note with a question mark, telling himself he needs to get Jackson’s approval.  
“Next, we want to discuss some of your preferences for how this will go. I’m not going to go over a huge kink list with you – it’s daunting and unnecessary right now.”  
“Plus, I don’t know what half the stuff means.”  
“Exactly. But we can check some of your hard limits and establish some things you definitely want to try. And we can also determine some behavior rules, and some of the expectations for outside scenes.”

It doesn’t take long to ascertain Jackson doesn’t want to try anything relating to bodily waste or blood, or CBT, knife play, or severe pain; all of which lines up neatly with Chris and Peter’s own hard limits.   
“Is there anything you _would_ particularly like to try?”  
“I like this,” Jackson blushes again, sweetly, at the admission.  
“I think it’s safe to say our boy likes to be bound and helpless, and worshipped,” Peter grins.  
“Helpful, because we can’t wait to worship you more, pup.”  
“And I’d like to try some more stuff with the spanking. I read about paddles and floggers and they sound…interesting.” Chris’ eyes light up – he can well imagine getting their boy all the way to subspace with that kind of action.  
“What about objects?”  
“Like sex toys?”  
“Yes, but also things that aren’t made for it. Different sensations. We’d always be very careful, of course.” Jackson gasps and Chris tries to school his face to be impassive. This is one of his favorite things, but he won’t do it if it would make Jackson uncomfortable.  
“Uh, yes, I think I’d like to try that.” Chris continues with his notes, letting the smallest smile cross his mouth. “And maybe gags, too, but not too big. And blindfolds.”  
“A little sensory deprivation, baby boy? We can definitely work with you on that.”

“Um, I’m surprised you haven’t asked- I mean…”  
“Don’t be afraid.”  
“Do you guys ever do things at the same time to someone?” Chris can see Peter grinning like the pervert he is, because he, like Chris, knows exactly where this is going.  
“What do you mean, baby? Just last night Chris was rimming your adorable little hole while I got the pleasure of your mouth. And the night before, you fucked my throat with my fingers inside you while you sucked Chris.”  
“Yeah, I know.” His eyes wildly land on Chris’ face and he takes pity on their boy.  
“Are you wondering if we’ve ever been inside someone’s ass at the same time? If we’d want to be inside you? How do you feel about that?”  
“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never done it. But the idea is really hot.”  
Chris makes another note. “I promise, if we get to that point, we’ll discuss it with you and we will spend as long as it takes preparing you.”  
“All day if necessary,” Peter pipes up cheekily, but at least Jackson is smiling again.

“Okay, everything outside what we’ve already agreed will be discussed and negotiated before we introduce it. Last thing though. You’re an actor, how do you feel about role play? Too much like work?” Again, he’s trying not to give a clue that it’s important – this time for Peter, who loves role play, but only in specific formats – he needs honesty from Jackson, and the boy does have a need to please which he doesn’t want to play on now.  
“I’d like it, I think, but it would depend what as. Do you have any examples?”  
“There’s the usual power imbalance ones,” Peter says, sounding more nervous than he ever has. Power imbalance is one of his bigger kinks, but only in an agreed scene, and Chris knows he worries that people will think he’s one of those sleazy producers making use of the casting couch in his real life, when the truth couldn’t be further from that.   
“Like professor/student, doctor/patient, cop/robber, boss/worker? Yeah, I could definitely be into that.” Peter’s face is a picture of joy and Chris smiles as he adds to the notes.

“There is one thing, though.” Jackson looks embarrassed, but there’s nowhere for him to hide, bound like that. Again, Chris concedes it was a good idea from Peter.  
“It’s okay pup. There’s no need to be embarrassed. Our preferences might not always line up perfectly, but that’s to be expected, and we would never shame you, even if we don’t like the same things, just like we hope you wouldn’t shame us.”  
“Okay. I’m just gonna say it. But give me a minute to get it out, because it’s complicated, and I’ve been thinking on it a lot. I _really_ like calling you Daddy,” he looks at Peter, who calmly strokes his thigh, letting him get his thoughts in order. “And I was reading about ageplay – butIdon’tthinkIwantthat,” he rushes out.  
“So you don’t want to role play as a child – that’s more than okay, baby boy. I’m definitely not sexually attracted to children. You might have worked out I like it when you call me Daddy because I like taking care of you and I like when you listen to my instructions, like a good boy. It isn’t an age thing.”  
“I hoped that was it. And I don’t want to stop that. But there’s more. When I was reading about it, I read some articles about a Little mindset. And I think I might have that. I’ve noticed that sometimes, when you’re looking after me after we’ve…you know…I get this really strong urge to do things that I used to do when I was young, like drink ice cream floats and watch kids’ movies. And I get really clingy, though I’ve been trying not to.”  
“Well don’t. I love it when you get clingy. And maybe you’re right, maybe it is a Little headspace. And that’s fine. And if you don’t want to do anything sexual while you’re feeling that way, that’s fine too. I just want to look after you.”  
“Thank you, Daddy.”

Chris isn’t even surprised. He had wondered, because Jackson gets _so_ sweet and compliant after a scene, and the other night, while they were watching an action movie after playing for a while, he hid his face during a particularly violent scene, leaning into Peter’s side and letting himself be petted, so this explains a lot. If Jackson does have a Little headspace he would suspect it goes back to the time before his parents abandoned him. Christ, he’d like to get his hands on those fuckers, though he won’t, for Jackson’s sake.  
“The only thing,” he says to Jackson now, “is you mustn’t tell us your color is green when you’re in that type of headspace.”  
“I won’t, I promise. I don’t know for sure, but I have a feeling I wouldn’t even know what you mean if you asked me when I was there.”

“I’ve been thinking, by the way. I want to do the discipline spankings. I think they’ll help.”  
“Good boy.” Jackson beams at that. “Have you had any thoughts on the rest of the dynamic when we aren’t in scenes?”  
“I have, actually. I know I can’t go round calling you Daddy and Sir when we’re in public, or around the set. But other than that, I’d like to be submissive even when it’s not for sex.” Chris wants to cheer, as Jackson just called himself submissive completely naturally, without the hint of concern.   
“Well done. I’m glad you’ve thought about it. The best way, we think, is to work out what that actually looks like as we go along. In order to facilitate that, you need to know that you can _always_ ask us questions about the lifestyle, and you’ll never get into trouble, provided you remain respectful, and we’ll also explain things as they arise.”  
“Thank you, Sir.”

“I think our boy deserves a reward, after all that, don’t you, Chris?”  
“I do. Such a good pup.”  
“Thank you, Daddy, Sir.”  
“What’s your color for the chair?”  
“Uh, maybe yellow right now. I like it a lot, but my arms and legs are feeling sore and a bit numb.”  
“Okay, there’s the first point,” Chris is stern as he and Peter begin to unbind Jackson. “You must always color-out if you go numb, because it means the circulation has been cut off. You’ll be okay, because it hasn’t been long enough for damage, but we need to know if it’s happening.”  
“I’m sorry, Sir.”  
“It’s alright. You didn’t know, but you do now. And, in future, willfully not looking after yourself will result in punishment.”  
“Oh, hush, you,” Peter huffs. “This isn’t a time for punishment talk. Our boy is going to be perfect.” Chris just rolls his eyes as he gathers Jackson’s limp body in his deceptively strong arms and carries him to the bedroom.

* * * * * 

Jackson’s trying not to let his painful limbs bother him, because he hates that he already disappointed his Sir by not saying something sooner, but he can’t help wincing, even as Chris carefully lays him face down on the huge bed. Sir strokes his body, powerful hands running across his shoulders and down his arms, easing the ache some. Daddy is off somewhere, making crackling shuffling noises, but Jackson just lets himself relax: he knows he’ll be looked after.

When Daddy comes back and straddles Jackson’s thighs, he’s naked: Jackson can feel his strong body pressing against him, the hardness of his beautiful cock pressing against his ass when he leans forward to smooth skin-warmed oil across his back.

Jackson can only murmur in pleasure as Daddy chases the aches away with his tender fingers.  
“Our baby likes being taken care of,” Peter whispers to Chris.  
Chris is massaging circles into Jackson’s short hair, “Of course he does. I think he’s such a good boy he’ll always let us look after him this way. He only wants to make us happy.” Jackson shudders in delight at the thought. Sir is right, even so soon – and he’s _never_ felt this way, but his Daddy and Sir are different to anyone he’s been with, and he likes that – he knows he’ll be happy forever if he’s just allowed to please them both. 

He wants to voice that, but can barely find the energy. He isn’t tired, as such, just floating happily with the attention of his two Doms. It was such a short time ago that such a thought would have made him sweat in fear, would have made him deny it vehemently as soon as it arose, but the freedom in simply accepting that it makes him happy; that having two men who want to take care of him, and who he wants to submit to, is where he wants to be. He still doesn’t know if he’ll be able to accept it out loud, outside of the safe bubble that Chris and Peter have created for him. Whether he’ll tell Stiles, let alone the rest of them, is still too much to consider. But he’s okay with that, too. With the concept that it’s okay to keep it between the three of them, and he can take as long as he needs to feel comfortable with others knowing.

He’s brought out of his comfortable reverie by Daddy moving his hands lower, gliding them slickly across Jackson’s glutes, and he can’t hold in the deep moan. It turns to a whimper when Sir moves away, but he soon feels the comforting presence across his calves, and Chris begins to rub the back of his thighs, while Peter flips himself to straddle Jackson’s lower back and keep massaging his ass, with increasingly firm movements.

“Look at our boy, Chris, so pliable under us.” Jackson lets his mind empty out, lets himself enjoy being spoken about as if he isn’t here, as Chris and Peter exchange increasingly filthy comments about what they’re going to do to him. It’s a strange sensation, liking this, because, before, it would have been something that would make him furious – being disregarded. But now, it’s more like something that makes him feel safe and protected. He doesn’t have to actively participate – he can simply be cared for, and, yes, used. Jackson feels a full body shudder as that thought crosses his mind and, as if on cue, Daddy presses his hands, to part him, so Sir can slide a finger across his hole, which is tight but trembling.  
“Oh yes, he’s quite relaxed. Quite ready to be our little fuck doll…fuck, listen to that, Peter. He wants it so much. You like being a toy for us, pup? Something to be used?”  
“Please, Sir, use me. But…” he’s flushed pink, and not just with arousal.  
“Ssh, baby boy. We would be honored to have the opportunity to play with you, but we’ll _always_ look after you afterward. You’re precious to us, sweet thing. What’s your color?”  
“Green, Daddy, so fucking green.”

Jackson yelps when Sir slaps his ass, somehow still playful despite the force.  
“I don’t think our doll uses any words, especially naughty ones. We do want to hear our toy’s noises though.” With that, Chris slides a finger into Jackson’s slightly relaxed passage, making him tense in response and arch his back as well as he can with Peter straddling it. Sir keeps working him, and he sounds so pleased at how well Jackson’s taking his fingers, one after another until there are four twisting inside him as he mewls and sobs happily at the overwhelming stretch. He doesn’t know how long Sir works him over – though it’s long enough that he’s lost count of how many times he has to huff out ‘green’ for them; something that might have frustrated him once but is merely an additional source of comfort for him now – before he vaguely feels them, in his floaty, dazed state, moving around, and now his Daddy is poised, powerful body covering his own.  
“You ready to take Daddy for the first time baby boy?”  
“Green,” Jackson gulps, pressing his head forward as Peter enters, slowly, pausing often to allow Jackson to adjust to each new level of intrusion.

Jackson doesn’t know how it feels. Really. Even though that’s a stupid thing to think, because it’s literally _happening_ to him right now. But he’s not really inside his own head, not properly, and it’s just so intense; so much more than fingers and tongues and toys, which he’d almost claim to be used to by now. The only thing he can latch onto is that it’s _good_ , like every pleasure-point on his body is focused there, where Peter’s connected to him so, so intimately. He’s nothing but weak noises and shivering skin, pushed inexorably toward the edge, very slightly grounded when Sir begins to massage his nape. They’re both still talking – dirty stuff that he can’t concentrate on, but that add to the desire he feels anyway, until Daddy starts going harder, his hands squeezing into Jackson’s sides while his mouth bites and sucks on the top of Jackson’s shoulder, making him lift, which gets a deep groan, and a swelling, and Jackson can _feel_ the heat inside him.

He only sinks down for a moment, wondering if the slide out of Peter is supposed to feel as good as it does, when he feels something appreciably wider press against the raw muscle, which is soothed with more cool gel, and the thickness pushes in, faster and easier than Daddy did, and it feels right, too. Sir is rougher than Daddy from the start, and Jackson is grateful for the way it brings him back, stops him from completely floating off, because he wants to feel, wants to appreciate the arousal being forced into him, and from him.

Sir’s fingers are hard against Jackson’s hips, putting bruises into the golden skin, and Jackson wonders, only for a moment and without concern, if it’s normal that he’s glad his Sir is marking him too; leaving signs that Jackson belongs to them and no one else. Chris pushes him down harder, is slamming now, but at a new angle that hits that point inside him dead-on every time, over and over, until Jackson is begging to be allowed to let go and Daddy leans over from the side to suckle a velvet earlobe into his hot mouth and tell Jackson that he can let go whenever, show his Sir just how much pleasure he gets from being used this way, and he does, with an actual cry; salty tears that Daddy lick from his cheeks adding to his release.

He’s shaking when Sir lets go, but there’s no time to let it take him, as he’s pulled over, Chris’ strong arms holding him against his chest, Peter crawling against his front and wrapping long arms around both of them.  
“You were perfect baby.” Jackson smiles, so happy they’re pleased with him, a wide unadulterated picture of happiness that Peter presses his lips against before they all snuffle into contented sleep.


	4. You’ve Got To Promise Not To Stop When I Say When

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Current' time.  
> Last chapter before the full story starts.
> 
> This was *so* much fun to write, and if you want to see the beginning from Stiles' pov, check out the final chapter of 'This is a Call'

Jackson has a plan. He won’t pretend it’s a good one, but he’s been working it out all day and it’s happening. 

Daddy’s away. Again. This trip has been three days already, and that’s after four days only last week and two the week before. And even when he’s home, he’s preoccupied. Normally – in the past – it wouldn’t be the biggest deal ever, but this time it’s a problem because Daddy’s distraction is a distraction for Sir too, and Jackson is definitely not getting the attention he needs right now. 

He knows they love him, so that’s okay. Even engrossed in work, they know better than to allow Jackson to descend into a headspace where he doesn’t feel worthy of their attentions; no one wants a repeat of the ‘Thanksgiving Incident’. But Daddy is gone, and Sir is going really easy on him, probably to make up for the softness that’s absent from the penthouse while Peter’s away. And Jackson has _needs_ , damn it.

“Come to the club with me.” Jackson just needs a partner in crime, however unwittingly. And when he needs someone to mess things up on a dancefloor, or even just to shoot the breeze with, Stiles is who he calls. Besides – two birds with one stone – he’s decided tonight’s the night he’s actually going to admit that the relationship he has with Peter and Chris is kinky beyond the simple part of there being three of them.

Stiles is reluctant, but Jackson’s plan allows for Derek being out of town and Stiles needing some fun too. He even asks Isaac to come. Isaac loves Stiles. It’s the cutest thing. Jackson wishes Isaac was in love with him as much as he’s in love with Stiles, because he’s been strangely drawn to the wide-eyed blond for a while now, although he can’t help but feel insanely selfish even entertaining thoughts like that – as if Peter and Chris aren’t enough for him, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

Damnit, he really has to stop getting so distracted every time Isaac’s in the room, barely noticing that Stiles finally caved, just like Jackson knew he would. 

The minute they get to the bar, Jackson sends Chris a message that he hopes has just the right level of disrespect.  
_Out for a few drinks with Stiles, Sir. Hope that’s ok._  
The lack of question should be an issue, plus the fact he hasn’t sent it to the group chat to include Peter, and it happened after he was already out. But they are his only designed transgressions.

Because Jackson enjoys giving up his power, they’d agreed quite near the start of everything that Chris and Peter would make all of his decisions, but always taking his wishes into account. They’d rejected a couple of parts that had him sulking at first, though luckily, in both cases, outcomes had quickly shown Jackson that they’d made the right decision for him. And he trusts them. They aren’t power-hungry, forcing him to do things just ‘because’, and they always share their reasons. When it comes to going out, they worry about his safety and will always consider that before saying yes, as well as the head space he’s occupying – some weeks he’s more prone to causing trouble than others. 

If he allows himself to be introspective (he does sometimes, alright?) then maybe Chris _would_ have said no tonight. And he would have been considering Jackson’s best interest, the way he’s feeling right now, like a naughty little Puck, just asking for trouble.

They’ve only had one drink when a hot guy walks up, swaggery and over-confident, though he doesn’t know it yet. He takes a look at Stiles and clearly registers him as way out of his league, despite him wearing a shitty low-budget outfit that belongs to his character. A fucking hoody? In a bar? Only Stiles. But, somehow, Stiles still manages to exude a certain self-assured class. Jackson’s always been more attainable, and there would have been a time when that would have been enough for the guy to have ended up on his knees in a public restroom, but not any more.  
“Can I buy you a drink?”  
“We have drinks.”  
“You two aren’t together, are you? Nah, you can’t be. No way you wouldn’t be all over each other.” Fair. When you’re as gorgeous as him and Stiles it’s understandable people would assume they’d be permanently touching. Jackson is kind of touchy with Peter, especially, though he doesn’t like having to keep it on the down-low in public: Peter wouldn’t care, it’s all Jackson’s own fears.  
“Doesn’t mean I want to be all over you.”  
“Come on, man. You don’t come to a bar looking like you do not hoping for some action.”  
“Fuck, what’s it like living in the past? I come to a bar to hang out with my buddy, now beat it.” The guy slinks off, muttering angrily, and Jackson vows not to leave his drink unattended – the guy got sleazier the longer he stayed – he’d definitely get into big trouble for that.

“Why did you want to come out? What’s going on?”  
“Whoa, Sti, way to get to the point.” Stiles has no filter; even so Jackson had hoped to be able to build up to this.  
“Everything good with Peter and Chris?”  
“Really good. Really, really good.” Really, really, _really_ good.  
“So, how does it work with you guys? Do you, like, take it in turns?”  
Jackson snorts, calls Stiles a pervert.  
“I’ve been wondering. You’re a lot calmer ever since you got together with them.” He’s not wrong – and trust Stiles to have noticed that but not brought attention to it. That’s him all over, and Jackson knows the only reason he’s questioning stuff now is because he can tell Jackson wants to talk about it.  
“They ground me, I guess.” It’s time, and he leans in. “The regular spankings help, too.”

Stiles’ reaction is just as hilarious as he thought it would be. His whiskey-gold eyes go huge and round and he dribbles his beer like an idiot.  
“What?!”  
“Come on, that’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”  
“I didn’t think it was like that!” He only looks partly embarrassed though and Jackson notes with some amusement that he’s wriggling like he’s turned on, too.

“How does that work, then?”  
Here we go. “I’ve been thinking about telling you for a while, but I was worried you’d freak out. So…do me a favor and _don’t_ alright?”  
“Won’t get weird, promise.”  
“I wouldn’t promise something you can’t follow through on.” He knows it’s going to get hella weird, no matter what Stiles vows.

“Do they treat you well?” Jackson supposes it’s logical for Stiles to ask that. He has just announced that his boyfriends hit him, after all. And he realizes it’s hard to explain to someone who isn’t into this stuff. It’s very _specialist_ , and definitely wouldn’t suit everyone. Jackson thanks his lucky stars regularly that Chris and Peter recognized it in him and pushed him just the right amount to allow him to embrace it – because he’d never have got there on his own. But Stiles is about the most open-minded person he knows, in terms of not judging others, and he’s struggling with the idea, which just makes Jackson want to ensure he gets some understanding before they wind their night up. He needs to try and get him to understand just how willing Jackson is.  
“We have a willing power exchange. We all have rules to follow. Peter and Chris are in charge, on the face of it, but I _like_ it. Actually, one of my favorite things is playing them off each other and getting into trouble, because Chris likes it when I’m well-behaved, and Peter loves it when I’m bratty. But Peter’s been working so hard lately, all meetings and being away from home. And it’s no fun getting on the wrong side of Chris when it’s just the two of us, because I enjoy being good for him. Though I’m missing the way Chris punishes me. He’s very good at it.” He doesn’t know if he’s getting it across right, but Stiles looks aware, and not pitying, so something must be getting through.

“So, you _like_ being punished? Aaaand you dragged me out tonight without mentioning anything to Chris, right? And I’m guessing one of your rules is telling him where you’re going?” Jackson sniggers. Stiles is crazy smart – and everyone knows how good he is at book stuff – but Jackson sometimes forgets how good he is at seeing into peoples’ souls, too.  
“You catch on quick, Sti. I actually have to ask both of them for permission, though they would never say no without a good reason, but don’t worry, I messaged Chris as soon as we got here. I want a fun punishment, not to be locked in a cock cage for a week.”  
“They would do that?!” Now _that_ makes Stiles go pale.  
“Chris would, if I let him worry by not communicating. And that isn’t what I’m aiming for, so I don’t want to push him too far.”  
“So, your sexy top-,”  
“Dom. They’re my Doms.”  
“Oh, okay. So, your sexy Dom hasn’t been punishing you enough lately and you’re feeling a bit strung out because of it, and you want him to spank your ass to bring you back in line, and breaking a rule is a good way to make that happen.”

See, scary good at seeing right to his desires. Jackson considers that Stiles would actually make an incredible Dom, though knows that direction is in no way where his preferences lie. And he thinks this conversation is having a very interesting impact on those preferences.  
“Something like that, Sti. Something like that.”

“So do you have to run off now? Keep your Dom happy?”  
“No. Si- Chris said I just have to be home by midnight.” Jackson doesn’t know if Stiles is ready to hear about the pet names. Particularly Peter’s. Another time.  
“Excellent, Cinderella. Tell me more then.”  
“Really? I don’t want to freak you out.” Jackson can’t help but poke at Stiles. It’s fairly obvious now that Stiles is _aching_ for more information. “C’mon, Sti, you’re about as vanilla as it’s possible to be.”  
“That’s not true!” The boy definitely protests too much.

“Weren’t you just as vanilla as me, anyway, when you started this?”  
“Sti, no one is as vanilla as you.” Even though this feels good, being able to share some stuff about his life, he really doesn’t want to have Stiles heading for the hills.  
“I’ve read stuff.” Of course he has. “How far do you take it? Do they take you to clubs where everyone wears leather and you crawl around on the floor with a collar on?”  
“They have membership for a club, but we’ve only been a few times together. Peter is a bit of an exhibitionist and he sometimes takes part in something, but Chris and I just watch. And I don’t wear a collar, though I do have some nice cuffs, which clip very nicely to the St Andrew’s cross in our bedroom.” Jackson freaking _loves_ that St Andrew’s cross, especially when Sir goes all stingy with a crop and then spreads it with some good thuddy flogger action, and then Daddy comes in with _all_ the attention while Jackson is floating in euphoria.

Shit, Stiles’ mouth is open in shock, and Jackson really hopes none of that was out loud.  
“I’m guessing you were hoping for some slightly less intense information.”  
“Maybe.”  
“You interested? Want to call Derek Sir? Or maybe have him say it to you?” Stiles’ face screws up – Jackson knew he was right about Stiles being subby, but definitely not in the way Jackson is. “Okay, so you’re wanting him to control you. But I reckon only in the bedroom. I think the way we do it would be too much for you; shouldn’t think you’d want to kneel patiently on the floor keeping his cock warm while he finished his paperwork, or let him make all the final decisions on the roles you take.”  
“You do that?”  
“Yes. Happily. It’s a mindset, Sti, and if you don’t have it it can be hard to understand. But even without it a lot of people like to try out a few kinks in the bedroom. You know it doesn’t even have to be about dominance and submission at all, right? That’s just what people think because of what they see on Pornhub, or read in Cosmo or something. Would the idea of being blindfolded suit you better? Or having Derek spank your ass with a paddle while he strokes his fingers through your hair?”  
“Fuck, Jackson, you can’t say shit like that.”  
“I have my answer. C’mon Stilinski, we’re going shopping.”

* * * * *

Jackson is buzzed when he gets to the penthouse. Every time Stiles got relaxed in a section of the high-class sex shop Jackson dragged him to, Jackson would show him the next level up, until he had a very good understanding of where his friend’s desires lay. It’s not something he’s ever discussed with Stiles or Derek before tonight – they have a solid friendship but it isn’t of the ‘every detail of our sex lives’ type – but he doesn’t think he’s wrong that Derek is going to have his tiny little mind blown when Stiles is all laid out, plugged and clamped and aching to be used.

So, when he comes through the door, humming contentedly and swinging a bag containing his own purchases, he’s almost forgotten the messages from Chris, and leaps back when he sees his Sir in the darkened living area, comfortably seated in a large armchair, one leg across the other knee, swirling a tumbler of dark liquid like a Bond villain.  
“It’s not midnight yet, Sir.” Chris just gazes through him, and Jackson shuts up; now isn’t the time for pointless defense of his indefensible actions.

“Have you forgotten something?” Jackson’s mind flicks through the options – drowning in all the ways he’s misbehaved, and suddenly fearful he massively underestimated how bad he’s been – when it finally hits him, and he quickly places the bag on the sideboard and strips his clothes, neatly folding each item.

Sir hasn’t smiled at him once and, whilst Chris isn’t the cheeky cheerful Dom Peter is, it’s unnerving, though Jackson reminds himself it’s _meant_ to be. He walked into this punishment with his eyes wide open, after all.  
“You have thirty minutes. Clean up fully and kneel in waiting in the playroom.” Shit. That means a full punishment. No quick spanking followed by the release of a good, hard fuck. Sir is going to make him _feel_ this one.

Jackson doesn’t rush. Sir doesn’t want him to. A deep cleansing enema, which isn’t a usual part of their routine and is therefore a clue to how intense this is going to be, followed by a check to ensure he’s hair-free from his chest to his upper thighs. He has regular waxes, his own preference, and fortunately his most recent one was only a few days ago, so there is minimal painful plucking of his most intimate spaces required now. He debates jerking one out too – he has no restrictions on that, though his Doms do enjoy watching him – but decides against it. If Sir doesn’t want him to come during the punishment he’s quite skilled enough to ensure it doesn’t happen. Finally, Jackson stretches his muscles in preparation for the discomfort he guesses will follow – he’s got excellent elasticity these days and Sir really likes him to prove it, even when he isn’t being punished.

He enters the dark playroom and kneels inside the door, facing it. No cushion, because this is a punishment, even if Sir wouldn’t mind if he uses one – Jackson will do this properly. To his surprise, Sir is holding his phone when he walks in and puts the low wall lights on, bathing everything in a soft golden glow. Jackson only manages to hold his position by tensing his stomach muscles when he’s surprised by Daddy’s voice, sounding more amused than annoyed, from the speaker.  
“Why are you being punished, baby boy?”  
“I went out without asking permission, Daddy.”  
“Oh,” Peter’s chuckle comes through, and Jackson just knows he’s rolling his beautiful blue eyes. “Why would you do that, sweetheart?”  
“I think we both know that, Peter. Don’t baby the boy.”  
“Can if I want.”  
Jackson holds in the sigh of happiness. He’s missed his Doms bantering over him these last few weeks.  
“You know you’re in a lot of trouble pup?”  
“Why, Sir? I know I should have asked, but I told you as soon as I got out, and I was home before the curfew you gave me.”

Chris doesn’t speak for a long time, until Jackson feels as though his skin is crawling with the need to move – but he knows better than to wriggle, or to question, so he waits, watching.  
“Tell Daddy why you did it. Be honest.” Chris doesn’t need that final instruction. Even after all this time, Jackson might still struggle to voice everything he needs, but he’s always honest when he’s asked directly, just like they are for him.  
“I miss you, Daddy.” Jackson blushes; more so when he feels the tears well. It’s the truth, but saying the words brings them home. “You’ve been away so much, and busy when you’re here.”  
“I’m sorry, pup. I try to make up for Daddy being at work so much. I know I’m not enough.”  
Huh? “No, Sir. You are enough. Though I don’t…” Honesty, remember? “I don’t like it when you do things that aren’t you, because Daddy isn’t here. Then I just miss you, as well as Daddy. I did this to get my Sir back.”  
Chris makes a confused sound.  
“He doesn’t need you to be soft, Chris. Even when I’m not there he wants you to behave like yourself.”

“But he’s right, you have been…absent a lot.” Jackson knows Chris is talking about more than simply physically. “We both know our boy needs both sides.”  
“But not from both of us. One side from each, remember. This is my fault. I’m sorry, though you should have told us you were dissatisfied, baby. You still have to take your punishment; and it isn’t just for going out without permission. You haven’t been communicating properly. So we’re going to have to work on that.” Peter’s voice goes warm with the threat and Jackson shivers in anticipation.

“You’re going to tell Daddy every single thing I do to punish you.” He stares, wide eyed, at Chris, who just gives a single firm nod, and Jackson can’t help the smile. This is his Sir. Strict but fair. Caring but uncompromising. The man he’s missed when he’s been attempting the cuteness and silliness that’s been lacking from Peter – traits that don’t suit him and feel fake.

The monologue begins straight away, as Jackson describes being bent over their spanking bench (an amazing piece of furniture in dark wood and soft leather), his wrist cuffs being tightened and clipped to the legs, his ankles being fastened into the harsh metal rings of their widest spreader bar. Daddy interrupts occasionally, mainly to bemoan the fact that he can’t see what he’s sure must be an incredible sight, and, even though it’s not something he’d ever suggest out loud (mainly so as not to call out Chris), he suspects part of this punishment is for Peter too – revenge for his disengagement – after all, it isn’t just Jackson who’s been missing him. 

Jackson has to count out the twenty harsh slaps he receives; not for Peter, simply the rules for a punishment spanking. It isn’t over though, as he then has to count ten vicious crops and thirty forceful, thudding strokes with the long flogger, and he knows it’s going to be _days_ before he can sit without feeling it in his heartbeat. 

It’s painful enough that he’s sobbing by the last flick of the flogger, and his cock is limp against his thigh. Chris soothes him with petting hands and cooling gel, and he hopes it might be over, and Sir might unfasten him and cuddle his aching body to sleep.

“What’s your color, pup?” Jackson sniffs and tries to see Sir’s face. It’s been a while since they’ve needed to check in that way – they know him so well by now, and can recognize when things are getting too much without having to check.  
“Uh, green, Sir. Is there more?”  
“Yes, pup. You’ve been very bad, not talking to us. The spanking was for going out without permission.” Jackson gasps. It was far harsher than he’d expected for that, and he’d though it was covering his bad communication too. “Tell Daddy what’s happening to you now.” 

Fuck, it shouldn’t, but that sends more shudders running through him, and he can feel himself hardening again. Through whimpers, he manages to tell Peter that Sir is using his fingers, pressing inside him and stretching him out, and the moan from Peter is unmistakable when Jackson tells him Sir is pressing the smooth, rounded wooden handle of the flogger inside him, fucking him with it, rolling the tip against his prostate, wheezing out past desperate puffs of air that Sir has pressed a finger just ‘so’, preventing him from coming.

“Part of your punishment, pup. You won’t come until Daddy’s home to make you.” Jackson cries out – Peter isn’t due for another day – begs pointlessly. He can safeword, but he won’t, not for this. Besides, there’s a small part in the back of his mind that tells him it will be worth it. 

When Sir fucks into him, he stutters out to Daddy how good it feels, squeezing hard against the fabulous intrusion – more to prevent himself from letting go than to tease, though it does have that effect too, and he likes that, likes Sir moaning as he bends to nip down Jackson’s spine, likes the swell and the heat when he finally releases inside him. 

There’s some relief then, as Chris lazily tickles Jackson’s leaking hole with the tip of his tongue, uses the handle of the flogger again to casually push what drizzles out back inside; no longer overwhelming him, just playing, admiring the sight, and now Sir is describing things to Daddy just as much as Jackson is, and they’re playing an unspoken game together to send Peter wild at the other end of the phone.

Jackson has lost track of time, sipping water as it’s offered, floating as Chris massages his still-bound body, when the door opens, light from the hallway flooding in. Daddy is at his face, cupping with big, strong hands, kissing tear tracks away.  
“I’m sorry baby. I haven’t been good enough for you.”  
“You are.” Jackson can’t say much else, but doesn’t need to, a tear slipping free now his Daddy’s here.

Chris and Peter kiss passionately, and Jackson can hear the apologies and the reassurances from both sides.  
“You drove?”  
“Only two hours. You can’t torment me with this and not expect me to be here.”  
“You going to fuck an orgasm out of our boy? I was about to unbind him, let him sleep.”  
“Color, baby?”  
“Green, Daddy, ‘s’long as you don’t tease me any more.”  
“I think we’re past teasing, baby.” Though Peter still takes a moment to slide his fingers inside, feeling the walls slick with Chris’s spend, making comments that would have Jackson wriggling and thrusting if he could move more than an inch, and he sighs with happiness when Daddy finally fucks into him. Neither of them last long after all that teasing, Jackson coming so hard his vision goes white, and he’s sure Chris is unbearably smug, but he’s earned it, and Jackson only just registers a hot shower where he’s being supported by both his Doms, and more soothing gel on his still-sore butt, before he’s sinking into contented sleep wrapped in the arms of his Daddy and his Sir, his thumb tucked cosily into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'll join for the next story in this series, which I'm really excited about. An actual plot-driven tale (though there'll be a shed-load of smut too, just because (not because it adds anything to the plot))

**Author's Note:**

> So, quite a lot of dialogue - and more to come next chapter. I love writing BDSM stories, but I'm a bit obsessed with appropriate etiquette, full kink negotiation, and informed consent. I'm trying not to let that get boring (I hope), but it's important to me when I write this stuff, because there's already enough unintentional dub-con and poor BDSM practices out there. (And listen, I know that the initial spanking scene didn't strictly have enough explanation in advance about what Peter and Chris wanted from Jackson, but Jackson worked out what was coming and was all for it). The next chapter will be primarily porn without plot, too. 
> 
> Hope you like it, and would love to hear your comments 😁


End file.
